


Drinking Me Lonely

by ArgentSleeper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin left without a backwards glance, and Arthur was left to fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking Me Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Hospital  
> POV: Multiple  
> MCD: No  
> Time: Modern

Merlin stacks his boxes on the steps one by one.  He needs to hurry up, but his heart is aching too much at the thought of leaving the old house.  He's spent the last five years of his life here.  Until recently they had been good years, great years.  He'll miss pretending to slide down the bannister.  Avoiding the creaky step on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  Cuddling on the sofa by the fireplace, safe and warm and loved.

Merlin shakes himself from his reveries.  He doesn't have time to mourn what he's lost.  Arthur will be home from work soon, and before he does Merlin must be gone.

 

* * *

 

Arthur necks back another gulp from the vodka bottle.  The empty fifth on the floor next to him is probably a sign he should take it easy, but he can't bring himself to care right now, and besides, it had already been half empty when he started.  Or at least he thinks it was.  It's all becoming a bit fuzzy.  It usually was fuzzy these days.

He’s such a fucking fuck up.  His father had warned him, had sworn to it ages ago.  “He'll leave you within six months, mark my words.  That's what they do.”  Of course Uther couldn't have predicted it would be six years, and that when it happened it would be all Arthur's fault.

He drove out the person who meant the most to him.  Merlin had left him three months ago without a backward glance, only a brief note to prove he had ever been there at all. He could say he doesn't know how it had happened, but of course he does.  He was too stubborn, too selfish, too _Arthur_.

His shaking hands spill a bit of vodka on the sofa, and Arthur lets out a pathetic whine at the loss.  He uses his shirt to clumsily dab at the wet spot on the cushion.  “I'd like to keep the sofa.”  That’s it.  No matter how many times Arthur fiddles with the note nothing more appears.  After six years that’s all Merlin has left to say to him.  Whereas Arthur has worlds of things to say, to beg.

_This is my fault, I'm sorry, I never should have done it, of course you can have the couch, you can have anything, I love you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…_

But Merlin will never hear any of it, because Arthur doesn't know where he is because Arthur is a failure who hurts the people he cares about most.

He takes another swig of the vodka and welcomes the respite when he finally blacks out.

 

* * *

 

When Arthur wakes, the first things he hears are the rhythmic beeping of machine and the soft chatter of people in the background.  That's the first thing he hears, but the first thing he notices is the man sitting by his side.

“Merlin,” he croaks.

Merlin says nothing, only glares.  He glances to his right, and a quick look on Arthur's own part reveals a heart monitor.  He's in the hospital.  He doesn't remember arriving, or even needing to go, but the amount of a wires attached to him confirm he needs to be there.

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” Merlin snaps hollowly.  “Did you really think drinking that much alcohol was going to end just fine?  God, you really do you think you're invincible, don't you?  Nothing can touch the great Arthur Pendragon.”

Well Arthur knows that's not true because the look of hatred on Merlin's face is killing him.  “Merlin, I-”

“I don't want to hear it.  This isn't a social call, Arthur.  I'm not here to make nice.  I got a phone call at three in the fucking morning to say you were unconscious in the A&E and I might want to get my arse down here.  So I came, because I thought maybe you’d been hit by a car, or someone shot you, or any of the things I've had nightmares about for _years_ knowing I was married to a police officer.  But then I get here and find out you decided to give yourself alcohol poisoning.  You are such a fucking prat.”

Arthur has heard that word spoken a thousand times in the last six years, sometimes in a laugh, sometimes annoyed.  Sometimes moaned into his neck as their bodies moved together in slick heat.  But never with such venom.  The heart monitor speeds up a bit, but it gives no other sign that his heart is shattering once again.

“Please, Merlin, I'm so sorry.  I love you.  I didn't- _I'm sorry_.”

“You know, I'd be more inclined to believe that if you weren't still slurring.  This isn't the movies, Arthur.  You can't just show up drunk on my doorstep and expect me to forgive you just because I feel sorry for you.  It doesn't work that way. “

“ _Merlin._ ”

“We're done Arthur.  I'm done.  Give your liver a break and accept that.” Merlin stands and walks towards the hall.  Then he stops just inside the doorway and turns slightly back.  “Oh, and Arthur?”

Arthur can't help it.  He's always been a masochist when it comes to Merlin.  And he always will be.  “Yes?”

“Tell the hospital to get rid of my number in your chart.  I don't want to be called again.”


End file.
